


Daughter Of Anarchy

by Lolsthecat



Category: Sons of Anarchy
Genre: Club Business, Drugs, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Friendship/Love, Kink, Multi, Other, Reader-Insert, Slow Burn, Smut, Violence, Weapons, strong female character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-23
Updated: 2018-01-22
Packaged: 2018-09-19 10:45:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 15,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9436742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lolsthecat/pseuds/Lolsthecat
Summary: (Y/N) was a legend in her own right. The first Daughter of Anarchy. Her patching was unknown to the Mother Charter until the East London Charter collapsed. She rolled into Charming hoping the MC would fill the void her family left behind. SAMCRO wanted her to prove her worth. (Y/N) may close off her feelings from the world but one person will bring them out of her.





	1. Chapter 1

The sun held its strength in the Californian sky during the day. Burning everything it touched. Grass had browned, plants wilted. The breeze had died, forgotten to remedy to heat. The sky filtered colours of oranges and reds as the sun came back to begin its next onslaught. Sounds of the surrounding wilderness were drowned out by the grumble of a bike. The rider held their pace. Dressed head to toe in black, hood pulled over their helmet holding its place; they were in no rush to hit their destination anytime soon. Their leather kutte sat low at their hips. The familiar reaper adorned the back, with an unfamiliar but small pink ‘#1’ on the butt of the rifle. ‘Sons of Anarchy’ across the shoulders, the word ‘East London’ slung low.  Charming was not expected their arrival.

The engine roared through the streets, disturbing the slumber of many residents. The rider seemed confident in finding their final destination. The bike’s indicator flicked left and the rider pulled into Teller-Morrow. The bike sat idling as the rider gathered their things.

Tig awoke first to the unappreciated noise. Sprawled out on the pool table he left out a sigh before pushing away the female next to him. He rubbed his eyes and peered out the door. “East London?” Tig brows furrowed. He went to gather the troops, a long night partying led to everyone being at the clubhouse. The East London charter had started to become estranged from their brother’s overseas. The Redwood Original’s had not heard a single word from them in years and now a lone rider sat pulled into their yard at 6am on a Saturday. The rider turned to engine off. The rider laid back on the bike, legs slung over the top of the tank. Their hood covered their face while they grabbed a few moments shut eye.

“Clay,” Tig softly rapped his knuckles on the door as he opened it. The door creaked as it opened causing Tig to scrunch his face. The last thing he wanted was to wake Gemma. “Clay, you’re going to want to see this.” He shook his President’s shoulders. Clay woke with a start. A small part of him panicked about what he was going to see. The club had been on edge recently, with their shading dealings and rivals at an all time high. Clay threw on his kutte and headed to the door as Tig gathered everyone else.

“What is this about Tig?” Bobby groaned. The group stood by the bar. The clubhouse was littered with empty bottles, cans and half naked woman. Evidence of a night well done and a party that went on for somewhat too long. Tig rubbed his hands through his dark curly hair. “East London.” Clay’s shot brows shot up. His jaw clenched at the mention of the distant club. “What about East London?” His hatred and unease seethed from his words as they struggled out of his mouth. “They’re here... Well one of them.” Tig looked at the faces of his brothers; every one contained a slight hint of anger but mainly looks of confusion.  Clay craned his neck to regain Tig’s attention. “Where?” He demanded. Tig led them to their uninvited guest. The rider had not moved. Sleep was not a kind beast and left the rider high and dry in their time of desperation. Clay’s large frame stomped across the asphalt yard, his brothers close behind. The rider did not stir, did not give him the satisfaction of fear. Clay’s eyes fell upon the kutte, ‘Sgt at Arms’. “What do you think you are doing?” His voice bellowed. “Why the fuck are you here sleeping in my yard?” The rider sighed, unamused by his childish outburst. The rider held their spot, not moving or showing any sign of future aspirations to. “Thought I’d wait for the welcoming committee rather than just let myself in. You know my mama raised me with manners but then again she did lose me to the club.” Clay took a step back as the rider spoke. He knew exactly who it was, as did Chibs. The rider sat up sliding their hood down to reveal a woman’s face. Her pale skin held small pink scars and scabbed wounds, stories of battles she had fought. Her long black hair unwound and came to sit at her waist. “(Y/N)?”  Chibs sounded surprise to see her again and somewhat wry about her unexpected visit. The last time Chibs and (Y/N) were in the same room she had barely turned 10. “Chibs.” (Y/N) sounded nonchalant about meeting an old family friend again. “Clay, we need to talk.”  Clay tilted his head for her to follow him inside.

Tensions ran high, not a whisper came from the group. The only sounds that could be heard were heavy boots hitting the wood floor. (Y/N) held her head high as she walked into the club house. She hid a smile from her American brothers, the sight before her, naked women and a completely trashed clubhouse reminded her of home. One thing could be said about the Sons and that is their ability to party.  The Prospects shuffled making coffee and gathering mugs, no words needed to be said to them, they knew their jobs. The only one room was untouched by the chaos. Clay pushed open the doors revealing the reaper table awaiting their meeting. The walls held all the secret’s the club had. All phones were left at the door. What was said amongst these walls, stayed there. (Y/N) watched the men as they found their seats. Clay took his place at the head of the table, unable to relax in his chair. He knew no good could come of this visit, only bad news can fall from this girl’s lips. Clay rubbed his hands over his face as waved of the young Prospect who had delivered the coffee. (Y/N) had accepted Clay’s offer of coffee but denied to take a seat. She had been on the road for hours, it felt good to stretch and walk, even if it was just a slow pace at the end of the room. Piney spoke up first breaking the silence that had fallen thick across the room. “Since when do we patch women?” He had addressed the elephant in the room, the mother charter was not consulted about its first daughter. (Y/N) knew that her presence in a kutte might ruffle some feathers but a part of her refused to hide who she was and what she had done to get there. “And a sergeant of arms?” Piney continued looking at Clay unsure of what their next moved was. (Y/N) stopped pacing, she folded her arms across her chest, closing herself off from the hostility. She knew they needed answers. “So, you want me to take point on this Clay?” She smiled.   
“You might as well.” He waved to her giving her the floor.

(Y/N) flashed her pearly teeth hoping to gain some points. Clay’s face remained flat, cold and expressionless. (Y/N) clicked her tongue, _tough crowd._ She knew the deal her father and Clay had. She could patch but only if she could hold her own. Clay obviously had failed to mention this to the rest of SAMCRO but little did he know it would only take her a few years to move up in the ranks. She fiddled with the mug in her hands. “Charlie’s dead.” (Y/N) stated catching eyes with the older members. Charlie was one of the first 9, he founded the London charter and he was (Y/N)’s father.  She swallowed thickly. “Piney, to answer your question, we don’t patch women. I can assure you Clay did not take the request light heartedly. He made a deal with my father. If I could hold my own as a brother then I could be patched.” She smiled at Clay, enjoying the moment that she had proven him wrong. “We haven’t heard anything from you guys in 6 years. I’m sure Clay must have thought that I didn’t make it. If I have to prove myself here too I will.” No one was sure how to respond. No one actually knew why she was here yet. Piney nodded, her title held no value to SAMCRO yet and she knew it. “As being SAMELO’s sergeant in arms, I moved up after Michael died. I took over his role though long before. The dispatching of ' _problem'_ people”. Tig understood what she meant. What she was required to do, as did Clay. However, the rest of the club weren’t always privy to such information. Tig was intrigued by the woman stood at the end of the table. He was seeing her in a slightly new light. They all held a small bit of respect for her.

Jax placed a cigarette in between his teeth and lit it, inhaling before he spoke. “Why are you here?” (Y/N) understood their hesitation with her visit. She rocked up out of the blue after hearing nothing from her or her charter for years and they deserved answers for it. “SAMELO is dead.” (Y/N) said without emotion, no signs of breaking but everyman in that room could see the pain in her eyes. “ _Charlie_ was our president. _Charlie_ called the shots and _Charlie_ did not want help.” Her voice held resentment towards her father. (Y/N) placed her cup down and lit a cigarette of her own. Forcing back her emotions, a technique she had learnt well over the years. “The Russians moved in on our territory four years ago. We’ve been fight with them ever since. We continued running our guns, taking care of contracts. Then the work started drying up. Then the club house went up in flames. They were pushing us out. _Charlie_ thought he had a hand on it.” She took another draw on her cigarette. Juice pushed an ashtray in her direction; with a shaky hand she flicked the ashes into it. (Y/N) relived the moments, like she did every night. “Cut a long story short. Only three of us walked out alive. The other two were both later picked up on gun related charges. The only reason I made it here was because I was dishing out some revenge. I watched them get hauled away. So I hightailed out of there. Got new a passport and came here.” Bobby let out a breath. The room fell silent almost as if they could see their own futures panning out in the same bloody death. Clay slowly processed the information. “I worked too hard holding that charter together and getting to where I was to just call it quits. Clay, I’m asking for a transfer. I’ll go nomad if need be but I know for a fact SAMCRO needs bodies.” Clay and Jax whispered amongst themselves. It was a decision that needed to go through the whole charter but not without Clay’s approval. As much as patching in a woman was not something the mother charter would do, (Y/N) was a legend, just like the first 9. The first Daughter of Anarchy.

(Y/N) stood waiting for the decision on her fate. Jax stubbed out his cigarette and smiled at her. Her heart sank a little. She had lost everyone she loved, she was unsure if she could handle losing the club too. “You’ll have to prove yourself. And you’ll no longer be a sergeant in arms. Is that what you want?” Clay’s gravelly voice held the room. His brothers were in shock. “I’ll do it. All of it.” Jax held his eyes steady at hers. He pulled on his black leather gloves and stood from the table. “The decision isn’t going to be made now (Y/N). Here’s the deal, if you can match up to ol’ Tiggy here. We will discuss it further. Let’s see if you actually live up to your rank.” (Y/N) stood confidently nodding. She had done this all before. She had no fear in earning her place. She never expected a hand out from them. “You,” Jax said clasping his hands on Tig’s shoulders, “are going to get in the ring with our sister.” Tig’s face dropped, his blue eyes widened at the thought of beating a woman. (Y/N) could see his apprehension, she could not let him back out. “Tig,” she said firmly, “when I wear this kutte, I am a brother and that’s how you should treat me.” He made no sign of moving or speaking. “Scared you’ll get your ass kicked by a girl?” She teased; the whole room erupted in laughter.

(Y/N) stripped down to her slack camo trousers and tight black vest. Tigs almost mirrored her, expect he wore jeans; they were slung low around his hips. Bobby stood in between the two barking rules backwards and forwards. “No groin shots, if one goes down you back off. It’s not a fight to the death. No biting and no scratching... I’m looking at you Tig.” The crowd around them grew slowly, croweaters, old ladies and TM workers came out for the show. Gemma clung to Clay pressuring for information, throwing dirty looks (Y/N)’s way. “I don’t approve Clay.” Gemma said scrunching her nose, slightly jealous of (Y/N).  
“Not your club.” His words hung thick in the air, Gemma knew it was not her place to question club dynamics but that never stopped her having an opinion. Jax approached the couple. He handed a beer off the Clay. “Who do think will win this?” Jax asked. Gemma put her bet on Tig but the Clay and Jax were on the fence. (Y/N) was determined but determination can only go so far. (Y/N) stood close to Tig talking before the fight was to begin. “Remember, I’m just a brother. What happens in here I won’t hold against you.” Tig smiled. He was not going to go easier on her. He could not go easier on her, she needed this and Clay will know if he held back. “I might just hold it against you though.” He laughed.

Bobby signalled for the fight to begin. The crowd erupted in cheers and shouts. The crowd was split down the middle. Most of the women wanted her to fail and the majority of the men were looking forward to seeing Tig get his ass kicked by a woman. Tig danced around, moving his feet quickly. (Y/N) stood her ground and laughed at his administrations. One thing that (Y/N) held in her stride was her agility. Her small stature was occasionally a benefit but she needed motivation. She wanted him to hit her. Tig was becoming cocky, in his mind he was adamant he would win. Tig took a swing at her. His right fist came in hard, connecting with her left cheek. He stopped all his jumping around and observed his opponent, waiting for her to cry. (Y/N)’s head turned with the impact. Slowly bring it back she smiled at Tig, flashing him a bloody smile before she returned the hit. Blood dripped down (Y/N)’s chin. She caught Tig off guard. She connected with him again with her left fist. Tig’s cheeks turned a bright shade of pink, small cuts gazed his face. The crowd cheered and booed. Everyone was enjoying the show. The club stood huddled together around the edge of the ring, whispering as the fight carried on. (Y/N) took a shot straight to his nose, she felt the crunch as it broke. Blood poured from Tig’s face. Juice and Opie winced. “Damn, I’m betting 200 on the chick.” Juice said confidently. Opie watched as Tig’s eye narrowed towards (Y/N). “Alright, 200 on our boy.” As their hands met to seal the deal Tig unleashed furious hits to (Y/N)’s face and body. She was temporarily winded. It was now or never, she had to win this. (Y/N) punched Tig in the right temple with all her strength, knocking him to the ground. The force of the blow had him seeing stars. “Bobby, end this.” Clay shouted. (Y/N) was celebrating inside. The pain was overwhelming, her whole upper body ached. She dropped to her knees by Tig’s head. Opie sighed handing over his cash to Juice. She cradled Tig's head in her lap. “Are you ok?” She asked looking over his wounds. Tig chuckled, looking up at her. “Help me up.”

Tig and (Y/N) stumbled out of the ring, using each other for balance. Heading into the club house to tend to their wounds. “Juice, go with them. Make sure they don’t kill each other.” Clay ordered.  “I can’t believe I’m saying this. I think she could be an asset to us. We vote tonight as to whether or not let her transfer but we keep a close eye on her for 6 months. If she doesn’t fit in with us then she can go nomad. Either way we can’t lose her to another MC. Jax get Juice’s and Tig’s vote, you’re their proxy. Church in 10!” Clay watched the beating she took. He was impressed, not only did she take several blows from Tig but she knocked him on his ass. “You sure about this?” Piney asked Clay and Jax in hushed tones.   
“You can see it, she’s undeniably a Son.” Jax piped up before turning on his heel to get the votes.

Juice and (Y/N) joined Tig in his dorm bathroom. The once clean cream tiled walls were now covered in smudges of their blood. (Y/N) and Tig were in high spirits, sitting on the cold floor. “Juicy I need something for the pain man.” Tig laughed, holding his nose. Juice handed him a joint. As he sparked the lighter (Y/N) moved closer with a damp cloth. “I’m sorry.” She said sincerely cleaning him up. (Y/N) was in no better shape than him. Blood crusting on her face and knuckles, her had old wounds reopened. Jax appeared in the doorway. He and Juice both watched her care for their brother. Juice was awe struck with the scene in front of him. He knew she’d always put her brother’s first. “Guys,” he said clearing his throat. Tig handed the joint to (Y/N) allowing her to relieve some of her own pain. “I need your votes.” He said. Tig stood up from the bathroom floor “Church?” Jax nodded at Tig, “I’m coming. Juice, clean her up.” Tig wanted to be there, he felt he could help sway the votes in her favour. He wanted her as his sister. Jax smirked at Tig. Juice gave Jax a small nod for his vote before he left. Juice held his hands out to (Y/N). She popped the joint in her mouth and allowed him to pull her up off the floor. “I’ve hogged this, I’m sorry.” She said sheepishly handing it back to Juice. His face held a goofy grin as he shook his head. “It’s not a problem.” He said quietly taking it from her. He held her waist and lifted her up onto the counter. He took a few quick pulls before placing it carefully in her mouth. She watch with (E/C) eyes as he inspected her wounds. “You did good.” He pulled her right hand towards him to gently wipe the dried blood away. “So,” Juice enjoyed the silence but he wanted to know **everything** about her. “What exactly did you do with SAMELO?” He cocked an eyebrow before peeking up at her, looking into her eyes. She exhaled slowly, enjoying the pain relief and light buzz she had going. “Tsk. Tsk.” She scolded playfully, “You know better than to discuss club business.” Juice’s eyes widen. He feared he had offended her or overstepped the mark, until her lips spread into a wide smile. He exhaled loudly, shaking his head and laughing. “The usual. Weapon procurement and disposal. I’d go on runs to collect on debts or pick up product. And,” She let out a shaky breath, unsure whether or not the next piece of information would change his mind about her. “Protect my family at all costs. Had to put some people down... I said earlier, when my last two brothers were arrested I was getting revenge. I took out 6 of the Russian Mob that had killed my brothers. I didn’t care that I was alone. I didn’t care if I came out alive but I did.” She took another pull on the joint before placing a finger under Juice’s chin to raise his head. (Y/N) studied Juice’s brown orbs, looking for any sign of judgement but they held nothing but admiration for her. She took the joint a placed it in his mouth, slowly rubbing her thumb along his bottom lip.


	2. Chapter 2

His lips were soft to touch, enticing. (Y/N) snapped herself out of it. She can’t blow it. His eyes were calling her. (Y/N) swallowed thickly. Juice stared back at her for a moment; his cheeks turned a faint shade of pink. He smiled softly and continued tending to her wounds.

The MC gathered for church. Doors closed. Thin waves of smoke hovered in the air. Tig sat with a towel to his nose, still trying to stem the bleed. None of his brothers could hold a straight face when looking at him. “She’s hot but crazy.” Tig’s words were muffled by the blood soaked towel. Bobby shook his head. Clay held his hand up for silence. “Alright, so we know why we’re here. Time to vote but this isn’t permanent. We transfer (Y/N) on a trial basis. We watch her for 6 months to see if she fits in with SAMCRO... If not then she can go nomad. I vote yes.” Any man transferring would not have to have the observation period put on them, but being the only woman in the Son’s Clay wanted to ease his brothers with a compromise. The votes rolled in from around the table. The brothers smiled as they voted some of them proud to be gaining her as a brother. “How can I deny the view? It’s a yes from me.” (Y/N) had certainly made an impression on Tig, mostly because she was the only woman to ever knock him on his ass; to him it was an attractive quality. Piney looked around the room, he sighed loudly as the vote came to him. “Fine. Yes,” a smile came over his face as he stared at Tig, “but only because I want to see her kick his ass again. Think she might actually knock some sense into you next time.” The room filled with the sound of laughter. Clay banged the gavel making the transfer official. “Don’t mention it until the party tonight. Regardless of the outcome, this is still a moment in history for the club.” Everyone nodded in agreement.

Chibs cornered (Y/N) after the meeting, to show her around the club and TM. (Y/N) studied his face as he spoke. He had changed so much but then again not at all. He had aged so much since she last saw him. His hair started to become flecked with white and years with the brothers showed around his eyes, which held their own ghosts. They came to rest at the picnic tables outside. “Why did you leave Fillip?” (Y/N)’s harsh accent met his ears. He was taken aback by her forwardness; it reminded him of her mother, Molly. Charlie and Fillip had built SAMELO from the ground up before he just left one night after her mother died. Losing Molly, his wife and daughter was all just too much for him. He needed a fresh start. “You see Lass, I lost 3 girls that I loved more than anything. I needed to start over.” (Y/N) couldn’t hold it back any longer, she had been chugging back her feeling for years. Tears broke free, silently. “I needed you. Charlie needed you. You leaving broke him. Broke me.” He never thought of her when he left. Only know did he realise that even though she was young, barely 10, she knew exactly what was going on. Chibs moved his hand to (Y/N)’s face to rub away the tears that streaked her cheeks. (Y/N) flinched at the gesture, until she felt her face with her own hands. “I know sorry is not good enough but I am. I hope you can forgive me one day.” Chibs was the last piece of (Y/N)’s family left. She understood why he left; she left London for the same reason, other than fleeing from the law. “It’s lucky you did. Otherwise you would have gone down with the club too.” She smiled at him, hissing as the gesture tugged on her scabbed lip. “You never would have let me patch.” Chibs watched as Charlie and Molly was reflected to him through (Y/N).  

The party was in full swing. Croweaters pranced around in skimpy outfits, begging for the attention of the men. Music held a steady presence in the room. The smell of alcohol, sweat and cigarettes was on the noses of everyone in there. The Prospects helped serve drinks and food, while getting drunk themselves. Everyone was having a good time. Only the club knew the reason for the celebration, everyone else chalked it up to a welcoming party for the SAMELO member. Clay waited for the merriment to hit a high. He cut the music and gained the room’s attention standing on a coffee table. “Family, we good some sad news,” he said momentarily meeting eyes with (Y/N) before continuing his speech, “and some good news. Our brother charter, SAMELO, is dead. London has fallen but from it brought (Y/N) to our doorstep. The first woman patched in the history of the Sons. And although it ruffled some feathers, with everyone, she handled her own. (Y/N) requested a transfer, wanted to stay in the SAM family. Take the Kutte off.” Clay said harshly. (Y/N)’s stomach and face dropped. She held strong, with a stone face she shoved it towards Clay, who in turn handed it to Jax. Croweaters’ began to snicker and whisper. The brother’s did not give any sign on giving up the game. “You see (Y/N)... some changes need to be made. We can’t have a woman, the first woman going nomad...” Jax took his knife tearing the ‘East London’ patches off, followed by the ‘Sgt. in Arms’.  (Y/N) felt the heat of bile forcing its way up her throat. All her work was for nothing. “We need to hold a standard as SAMCRO. The Originals. And SAMCRO should also have the first Daughter of Anarchy with them.” (Y/N)’s face shot back to Clay, a loud cheered erupted around the room from the MC mostly. Her eyes wide. Jax handed her back her Kutte with several new patches. ‘Men of Mayhem’ replacing her ‘Sgt. in arms’, ‘Redwood Original’ replacing the ‘East London’ above the left breast pocket and ‘California’ taking its rightful place under the reaper. “You fuckers.” (Y/N) laughed at the hazing she received. She hugged Clay and her brothers.

“You okay?” Juice found (Y/N) laid out on one of the picnic tables. Her kutte sat on the table next to her, patches still needing to be sown on. The heat in the clubhouse had gotten too much. She sat up on her elbows to make eye contact with the man that sat beside her. “You knew?” Juice let out a breathy chuckle, facing her his signature smile.  
“Yeah. I’m sorry, Tig told me Clay didn’t want you to know.” (Y/N) laughed along with him.   
“It’s fine, just a little warning. I almost threw up.” (Y/N) sank back on the table. Her vest came over her hips, exposing her inked skin. Juice studied it, mesmerised by the pale flesh. Delicate flowers met with heavy black lines, the whole piece was a mystery to him, but from what he could see it fit her well. “You staring at me Juicy.” Juice turned his head so fast it could have come off his shoulders. (Y/N) was watching him the whole time. “I... urrr...” _play it cool damn it._ He took a breath. “I just noticed you tattoo, didn’t think you had any. What is it?” (Y/N) shift to stand up. She confidently lifted her vest just below her breasts. Her bra was peaking underneath it slightly. She wasn’t fazed. (Y/N) had a few more tattoos than Juice expected. Her right side was completely decorated, the reaper sat proud in the middle as the main feature, water-colour styled flowers and small tribal designs acting as a background. “I got this one as soon as I was patched, same day. It’s my biggest.” She pointed to her left a tribute to her mother. “This one, was my first.” The memorial portrait was almost the spitting image of (Y/N), “It’s my mum.” She smiled as she remembered her. “And this,” She lifted her bra up, flashing Juice her under boob, “is my favourite” It was the reaper scythe, with the rifle handle. Juice lost his train of thought. “Woah,” Tig put his hands on her hips, inspecting her ink and goods, “glad I walked out here when I did.” He laughed. “Nice ink.” He said moving away to sit next to Juice. (Y/N) covered herself up again.

Gradually people fell off into pairs, or passed out. Juice and Tig kept her company for most of the night. Tig disappeared off inside to get another drink, but never remerged.  (Y/N) chewed on the inside of her cheek. Her buzz from the alcohol and weed were slowly wearing off. She couldn’t hold back the yawn. She had barely slept in the last week.  “Where you stay?” Juice asked curiously.   
“I haven’t actually got that far.” She laughed sheepishly. “As soon as I got off the plane I haven’t stopped. That was 3 days ago. Had to find a bike and rode it all the way here.”   
“You can stay with me tonight if you want.” A familiar heat hit his face, “I mean, I’ll take the couch, until you can sort something else out.” (Y/N) nodded in acceptance; she had nowhere else to go. She was flattered by his offer. “I’ll take the couch; I’m not kicking you out of your bed.” She nudged his shoulder.   
“Let’s go, before you pass out.” Juice said finally gaining a small bit of confidence.

 


	3. Chapter 3

As (Y/N) stumbled up Juice’s driveway she turned to wave to the prospect in the van. (Y/N) felt unbalanced, the world span from under her feet. Juice swept into action, grasping her at her wait to pull her back to her feet. She squealed and laughed, embarrassed by her own behaviour. Juice shook his head and chuckled. “I’m sorry, I think I had one too many.” (Y/N) used Juice as a crutch as he guided her inside. “You’re not the only one.” He said falling through the front door. Hysterical laughter from the pair filled the house. (Y/N) dropped her bag in the living room besides the couch. (Y/N) eyed the house around her. The walls were white washed throughout, hard wood floors. The house had a clean modern feel to it. Technology filled almost every space.

“Take the bedroom, it’s over here.” He supported (Y/N) around the house. She didn’t want special treatment from him. She was being a burden as it was. The last thing she wanted was to kick the man out of his bed.  The two approached the bedroom and (Y/N) pushed him down on to the bed. “I don’t think so,“ she said confidently, “I told you. I’m taking the couch. But thank you.” She kissed his cheek and wondered back into the living room. She fell onto the couch, removing her boots and pants. The thought of getting up to ask for a pillow or even a blanket was too much effort. She had denied sleep for way too long and the heavy feeling behind her eyes was winning.

Juice changed out of his clothes, replacing them with just a pair of shorts. He scrambled through the laundry cupboard to find a spare pillow and blanket. By the time he had made it back into the living (Y/N) was fast asleep. Her head rested on her arm as she snored softly laying on the couch. Juice smiled; taking the blanket he carefully covered her. (Y/N) did not stir as juice gently lifted her head to place a pillow underneath her head. He smiled to himself, moving a strand of hair from her face. Juice could not help himself, he took her pants, folding them and placing them on top of her bag, then moved her boots to the hallway cupboard before retiring himself.

  _Bullets ripped through the pub walls. Nothing was safe from the devastation of bullets as automatic weapons were fired into the SAMELO clubhouse. The war was on. Club member’s families had gone into hiding long ago. Bullets hailed down as (Y/N) and Charlie sought refuge behind the bar. “(Y/N), stay here. Stay safe.” She couldn’t help but roll her eyes. No way in hell she was backing down now. Russian mobsters stalked in, coming in to finish the job. Charlie sprang up from his hiding place, moving toward his brothers preparing a plan. Leaving (Y/N) on her own. She weighed up her options, looking around at her fallen brothers, she wasn’t going to let anymore of her families blood be spilled._

_Gun fire kicked up again. The other members of SAMELO made an attempt to stand their ground. Her father included. Bullets flew through the room, hitting both sides equally hard. (Y/N) held her pistol steady, firing into the chest of the closest man to her. He crumpled to his knees before she shot him again, in between the eyes. A second and a third fell before the Russian mobsters retreated. Car tires screech, (Y/N) took the opportunity to reunite with her Dad._

_She scuttled behind the overturned pool table. “(Y/N), are you okay?” Her father checked her over for wounds. Her eyes zoned in on her dead brothers that lay around him. “I’m fine.” She said sternly swatting his hands away. “Did anyone else make it?” She stood up. Her eyes met the young prospect who emerged from the back room. She was disappointed in him. He should have made a stand. The extra weapon could have made all the difference. She breathed a sigh of relief as Jason, the club treasurer, came into view entering through the front doors. At least some of them survived. “Dad we’ve got to go.” She said flatly. Different emotions pulsed through (Y/N). She switched off. She did not want to feel them._

_Charlie looked up at his daughter. “Sweetheart.” (Y/N) watched as blood covered her father’s hands. She dropped to her knees applying pressure to the wound. “Call Zack!” She yelled for someone to call the club’s doctor. Jason came over, placing a hand on (Y/N) shoulder as he made the call. Her face was stone, icy cold. Charlie removed her hands from him. “The club dies with me. Get out, get married, have lots of babies.” His bloody palm stroke her cheek. Charlie wanted to die, this life had caused nothing but pain for his family. If he died he thought she would give up the life._

(Y/N) woke herself. She had been cry so hard the pillow underneath her face was soaked. Regaining her breath she settled back into reality. She remembered where she was. (Y/N) pulled out her burner phone checking the time. _5:13am_. She sighed. The last thing (Y/N) wanted to do was wake Juice. She threw on her pants and searched for her boots. As (Y/N) searched through the house she could not help but notice everything had a place, and everything was in its place. She cocked an eyebrow. She was curious as to how a man of his age could be so clean. Unable to find her boots she headed barefoot out the front door. She needed to smoke.

(Y/N)’s chin rested on her knees. The sun began to make its appearance. “You okay?” Juice startled her; she had not heard him open the door. He looked at her questioningly, his eyes full of genuine worry. “One down side to this line of work, you can never sleep quite right again.” She said smiling up at him. He took a seat next to her. “It all comes back to haunt you.” He said. He understood her sleepless nights, everyone in the club suffered from them.  “Why are you out here?” she waved the cigarette at him.  
“I couldn’t find my boots; otherwise I would’ve got out of your hair a lot sooner.”  
“Stop, you’re not a bother. If anything you’re help me. Gets lonely being here alone. You can stay as long as you want.” Regardless of his growing feelings towards the girl she was his family now. He would do the same for any of his brothers. “I mean if you can put up with me.” He smiled slinging an arm around her shoulder. “I can move my gym stuff into the garage, set you up a room.” (Y/N) knew money would be tight for a while until she earned some with the club. She had nowhere else to go and people weren’t exactly happy about renting to a member of a motorcycle gang. She nodded and thanked him squeezing his thigh.

 


	4. Chapter 4

Months thudded on. Turf wars became quiet. They had stemmed the flow of problems coming from the Mayans and 69’ers. A fragile dam was in place. Everything trickled through SAMCRO before reaching the other clubs. They wanted to kill each other. As long as SAMCRO made a profit and the war kept out of Charming, they could kill each other.

 

(Y/N) earned with the club, both on runs and in the garage. Money was coming in a steady flow. (Y/N) sent the prospects home early. Tonight she wanted to close up, give the guys some time off. Mindlessly she swept the dust and debris from the garage floor. Lost in her head. She had planned on only staying with Juice until she had enough cash to move on. Now she had grown comfortable. She enjoyed the security, the cleanliness, the company. There was rarely a moment when (Y/N) was awake and alone. She filled her head with people, with their voices. The more she had to occupy her mind the better. Her head swam with distinct destructive voices. They sang in chorus, she was a burden, she was holding him back. It was time for her to move on but she had become hopeless, stuck a routine. To the boys she played tough and determined but deep down she was still a fragile orphan, alone in a weird place.

 

“And why are you sweeping? We have prospects for that.” Tig laughed eyeing her robotic movements. His voice pulled her from her never ending cycle of self-doubt. “I just... Tig, can I talk to you about something?” (Y/N) propped the broom against the wall and jumped up on the counter top. He joined her, lighting two cigarettes, handing her one. “When Juice asked me to stay with him, I planned on only stay until I had enough money to support myself.” She took a drag of her cigarette, slowly explaining the story to him. “but now, I don't want to...I can’t be alone.” Her voice held thick in the air. This was not the first time (Y/N) opened up to Tig. They frequently had private conversations. They would discuss the things they had done for the club. The kills. The nightmares they suffered because of it. Tig knew his brother and he knew (Y/N). “Juice would let you stay for as long as wanted. But... you know you could always stay with me if he didn’t.” (Y/N) smiled at Tig’s sincerity. She laid her head on his shoulder. “I guess I should talk to him, huh?” She exhaled slow, controlled. “I better finish up.” Tig watched as (Y/N) went back to cleaning the garage. He admired the girl. She held a strong exterior. Her walls were firm, cemented in place to protect herself. Every now and then she’d let him in. Let him soothe her pain. See the real her. His eyes wondered along her body. He took his time to examine her curves, the way her body swayed as she worked.

 

Juice never left without (Y/N). They always rode home together. Their routine made him feel secure. There were many things with the club he couldn’t control at the moment but this was one thing he could. Juice nursed his beer in the clubhouse waiting for her to finish up in the garage. _8pm_. The Croweaters were hovering around him, he felt uneasy. He needed to find her. Snatching up another beer he headed out.

 

Juice could hear the rhythmic swoosh of the broom before he saw her. He caught Tig staring, lost in his own thoughts. Throwing herself into constant work could only mean one thing. She was having a bad day. Juice struggled with the same voices, the endless taunting and self-loathing. He understood her. He could help her keep them at bay. Tig locked eyes with his brother and excused himself. Clapping his hand on Juice’s shoulder he whispered in his ear. “Talk to her.” Juice didn’t have time to reply. Tig left. He furrowed his brow questioning what he had meant, was he the problem? “Beer?” (Y/N) jumped, connecting the broom with his stomach. Juice doubled over winded. She had not heard him enter, nor had she heard Tig leave. Her eyes almost popped out of her head. Juice gasped for breath in front of her. She dropped the broom, offering him support. “Shit, Juice, I’m so sorry.” This wasn’t the first time she had attacked Juice. He often made her jump. He often ended up in this position. “S’fine, I’m used to it.” He smiled. Her cheeks felt hot. Embarrassment swept over her face. Her fight or flight reaction was strong. Which resulted in a lot of her new brother’s getting hurt. Tig caught on quick; he usually cleared his throat or spoke from a distance. Poor Juice, he always chanced it and always got hit either by a fist or an object.

 

Juice regained his composure. “Thought you’d like a beer.” (Y/N) thanked him. “What’s up?” He eyed her slow, awaiting a reply. (Y/N) noticed the time. She was late finishing, she had kept him waiting. She knew she needed to address what was bothering her. She gulped back the beer. “Do you want me to move out?” Juice cocked an eyebrow.

“Why would I want you to move out?”

“Because I said I would once I had the money to. Now... now I’m not sure if I want to. I like our routine. I don’t like being on my own but Tig said I could live with him if you didn’t want me there...”

“You’re an idiot.” He chuckled into his beer.

“Excuse me?” (Y/N) asked through gritted teeth.

“I love having you around.” His eyes were captivating. She was unable to escape his gaze. “Oh.” She didn’t know what else to say. (Y/N) had allowed her worries to eat away at her for weeks and yet it was all in her head. She nudged Juice. “Well, I love having you around. Going home with you is like a small escape from the club. I dont know, it feels like there’s something more to my life, you know?” She took the words out of his mouth. When they were at home together it felt normal. As much as they would both die for the club, they needed silence from the daily dramas that went along with. Time to act like ‘normal’ people. Everything with the club had become serious. Although the work had slowed down, the constant threat of danger still lingered over them. “Yeah, I get it. We all need space from the club once in a while. We are lucky, we have each other for that.” They finished their beers in silence. Enjoying the company of one another. “Let’s go. We have prospects for a reason.” He smiled dragging her out of the garage.

“It’s Friday. You should get one of the girls. Have a good time.” She staggered behind him as his strong grip pulled her towards their bikes. “Nah, I’m good.” Croweaters no longer held Juice's attention. They had screwed him over too many times. They pretended to care about him to work their way up to the more ‘superior’ members of the club. He hadn’t accepted company from them in months. “Besides, it’s pizza night.” A small smirk spread across his face. (Y/N) found it infectious; she couldn’t help but smile back at him.

 

They raced home. Breaking many laws as they went. The Kutte they wore with pride held strength with local law enforcement. Their actions on the road were never questioned. (Y/N) rolled on the throttle as they hit their street. She passed Juice with no intentions of slowing down. Juice rolled off the throttle, he slowed down the bike to pull into the drive. (Y/N) slammed on her breaks. With a firm grip she held the bike steady as the handle bars threatened to tank slap. Juice shook his head. Silence fell across the street once they cut their engines. “You’ll come off if you keep doing that.” Juice’s voice held genuine concern for her safety. She always played recklessly with her life much to his dismay. “Problem is Juice, you’re a pussy.” She poked at him and turned on her heel towards the door. (Y/N) pushed open the door. Before her foot could pass the threshold Juice grabbed her by the waist. He hauled her over his shoulder. “What did you call me?” He kicked the door shut with a thud. (Y/N) thrashed around, laughing trying to loosen his grip so she could escape. Juice returned her efforts, slapping her hard across the back of the thighs, a few inches shy of her ass.

 

(Y/N) knew her only escape was to play dirty. She reached her hands underneath his kutte, making contact with bare skin. Her hands snaked up his side and proceeded to relentlessly tickle him. Juice tried to withstand her efforts. He held on for as long as he could before he doubled over, giving her a change to wiggle free. Her cold hands kept up their administrations. (Y/N) had Juice right where she wanted him. “I called you a pussy.” She laughed along with him. The sounds of laughter and pleas for help echoed around the house. Juice clamped his large hands around her wrists, and wreathed her out from under his shirt. Somewhere between the struggle and laughter they had moved closer. Their bodies almost touching. It fell silent. (Y/N) lost herself in Juice’s eyes. Without a second thought she stretched up on her tip-toes, placing a gentle kiss on his lips.


	5. Chapter 5

As quick as (Y/N) kissed him she pulled back again. “Shit. Shit. Shit.” Juice stood wide-eyed watching as (Y/N) erupted in front of him. A volcano of molten emotion. Her panic left him feeling hollow. Was kissing him that bad? (Y/N) took a few steps back away from him before seeking solitude in her room.

She treated the darkness as a friend. It filled every space. (Y/N) sat on the floor at the end of her bed. Knees to her chest. Head in her hands. Her thoughts hovering around in circles. _Why did I do that?_ The voice swam around over and over again. She couldn’t breathe. The walls closed in on her. Her throat clenched shut, her lungs felt as if they were engulfed in a simmering fire. Her panic was not from regret, but fear. That one move could turn her world to cinders and rubble.

Juice stood fixed in place. He wondered what had sparked such a reaction. He could hear her. The faint sound of her hopeless gasps for air. He couldn’t let her ride it out alone but he wasn’t sure if his help was wanted. He took a chance anyway, he went to help (Y/N). Juice moved swift, with purpose. Pushing open the door he took two large strides before dropping to his knees in front of her. She never heard him. Her usual reaction to being startled was put on hold. She was too caught up in her head to react. With gentle hands Juice took a hold of her. “(Y/N), look at me.” Her chest heaved without purpose but she listened. She became fixated with his eyes. “(Y/N), it’s just a panic attack. Just breathe with me. Deep breaths. In through your nose.” He sucked in a breath, “Out through your mouth.” He exhaled. She mimicked him. Copying his rhythm. They were breathing in sync. Hand in hand. Eye to eye.

“Sorry.” (Y/N) finally muttered. For 30 minutes they had sat together, breathing, thinking. (Y/N) broke that silence. Juice smiled a small smile at her. Rubbing his thumb across the back of her hands, “What was that about?” His voice held concern and worry, her answer could break him. “I just... It’s just... The voices. They were screaming that I ruined everything. That the feelings I hold for you could tear apart everything I have done with the club... For the club, to get in their good graces.” Her voice came out soft, only a fraction above a whisper. Juice became transfixed with her eyes. The beautiful swirls of colours held his attention. “What feelings?” He pressed the matter. Juice needed to know if she also felt the spark. “We share something, something that I have never had with another person. We share the same demons.” She squeezed his hands. “I know we are brothers. But when we are together in here, we aren’t in kuttes. You kept me here with you. Changed your life. Changed your house. I notice every little thing you do for me. After a shitty day, you’re the only person I want to be with. I sleep easier when I know you’re around. When I fall asleep with you on the couch I have dreamless sleeps. The best I have ever slept. Juice... it’s fine if you don’t feel the same but I am falling for you. If you want me to leave I-”  
“I don’t want you to leave. I have fought you every time you have tried to. (Y/N), you make my life peaceful. I’ve never found anyone like you. I love you.”  
 “You do?” He nodded. (Y/N) dipped her head as a blush adorned her cheeks. She peaked up at him through her eyelashes. She felt stupid. All that panic, for nothing. “What about the club? Clay won’t go for this.”   
“This is nothing to do with them. Like you said, when we are in this house we aren’t in kuttes. This is between you and me.” Juice inched forward slowly. Removing his hand from hers he placed it under her chin and brought his lips to hers. He breathed life into her. Between them they ignited a fire. One that was unlikely to ever be extinguished. They were in tune with each other. Their lips fit together as if they were made for each other. Juice pulled (Y/N) towards him, his hands on her hips.

(Y/N) stirred from her slumber. Juice held her against him, his grip held a soothing weight on her side. Skin on skin. Her head fit perfectly on his chest. She traced his abs with her fingers. Lingering, she felt as if she was sinking into him. She got lost in him. “Good morning.” His sleep ridden voice was like a melody in her ears. He kissed the top of her head.

Their relationship was a secret. Not out of malice. Their relationship was theirs. No one else needed to know. The club had a way of turning relationships sour. Their behaviour to others would not have appeared to have changed. They left the club together; they came to the club together. They still went on runs together. They had an unspoken agreement but no rules. Neither one was a fan of PDA. They knew they could last if the club did not find out.

“(Y/N), Clay wants to see us.” Tig ushered (Y/N) into the TM office. Blinds drawn, the door was locked behind them. (Y/N) knew nothing good was going to come out of this. “We have a problem.” (Y/N)’s gaze was cold, glassy. She showed no emotion. “I need you and Tig to _take care_ of a couple of people. They’ve been selling rock inside of Charming. They have been warned more than once.” A sense of relief washed over her, but did not change her expression.  
“Why me?” Her tone was blunt, one that Clay had grown used to. He knew she was all about business, all about being straight to the point. “You have done this sort of thing before. Also, we need a woman’s touch.” (Y/N) couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “It’s not like that. They are women. We need this problem taken care of and not everyone is _suitable_ for the task.” She knew what he saying. Some of their brothers could not handle the killing of a woman. However, they needed to reaffirm their message: no one sells drugs inside Charming. “This stays between us. All they need to know,” Clay pointed towards the clubhouse, “is it was taken care of.”

Clay had lied. (Y/N) and Tig dealt with the problem. ‘ _A drug deal gone bad’_ was the official assumption. What Clay had forgotten to mention to both (Y/N) and Tig was these two drug dealers weren’t women but girls, barely turned 17. As soon as their bodies hit the ground, the pair learnt the truth. For Tig it was easy. He swallowed it and moved on. (Y/N) could not help but see herself in the girls.

(Y/N) felt numb. She knew someone else was pulling the strings. Someone else had employed the girls. They should have paid the price. Tig approached her several times after it happened. He tried to talk to her about what had happened but every time she shot him down. He could see her spiralling, her guilt spinning out of control. If she wouldn’t talk to him, he had to find someone she would.

“Juice, we need to talk about (Y/N).” Juice was fixing up the tow truck, giving it a basic service before the next call. He wiped the greased from his hands, giving Tig his undivided attention. “I shouldn’t be telling you this. No one could find I told you, especially Clay. The girls... the drug dealers...” Juice’s heart sank; he knew what he was going to say. Her recent behaviour had not gone unnoticed to Juice. She pulled away into a deafening silence when they were at home. “That was us. Me and her. She won’t talk to me and I know it’s eating her alive. Just try. She needs you”


	6. Chapter 6

A dark shadow took over. Killing was never an issue for (Y/N). Not when they truly deserved it. The lies, the deceit from her president put her on edge. If Clay was willing to lie about something like this... what else was he hiding? (Y/N) understood that not everything could be divulged to all members of the MC, but to expect her to carry orders without the full picture... it did not sit easy with her. A battle of morality erupted within her. No one else was supposed to know about what her and Tig did but the guilt was eating her alive.

(Y/N) paced in the kitchen, making decisions. Juice watched momentarily, leaning on the doorway. As a loud sigh escaped (Y/N)’s lips Juice pulled her into a hug, halting her movement. His calloused hands brushed against the top of her arms. In sync they pulled away from each other. (Y/N) got lost in his puppy dog eyes. Her gaze flicked from his eyes to his lips, a small smile spread on her face as she leaned up to kiss him. Slow, sweet. For Juice she ended it all too soon; pulling back she rested her forehead on his. “Juice, I need to tell you something.” His hands cupped her cheeks, tracing patterns, wiping her tears before she knew they fell.   
“I know.” He said softly, placing a kiss on her forehead. “Tig told me what happened.” (Y/N) let out a breath, her burden was no longer her own. “Come on.” Juice led (Y/N) to the bedroom.

Laying on the bed (Y/N) snuggled in close to his bare chest. His heart beat was a steady drum beneath her. Juice didn’t push her to talk. He mindlessly stroked at her skin, (Y/N) occasionally let out small moans of appreciation. “It’s swallowing me whole Juice.” She finally spoke. “I’ve killed people. A lot of people but never someone that young.” (Y/N) shifted on his chest, to look into his eyes, to make it easier to search for a reaction. “Clay never told me how old they were. It’s obvious that killing them isn’t going to stop people selling Rock inside of Charming. He should’ve told us to go after the person that put them on our streets.” Juice’s expression never changed. He held a soft gaze with her, showing her he was listening. “When I saw them... I know it sounds, stupid but I saw myself. I saw the person pulling the strings. I was once that girl... still am.”   
“Did you ask him?” (Y/N) furrowed  
“What do you mean?” As soon as the question left her mouth it clicked. “I never asked him about the girls. I just did it.” Clay may not have been forth coming with information but she never stopped to question him about it.   
“If you had asked I’m sure he would have told you.” Juice was attempting to fix one problem at a time. He knew that her distrust for Clay could go sour; it could essentially get her killed. “As for the girls (Y/N), they made their choice. They knew the consequences.”

Juice’s words stuck with (Y/N) as he lightly snored next to her. _They knew the consequences._ The choices they made caused their death. (Y/N) could have easily met the same fate at their age. On more than one occasion she had come close. Her inner turmoil settled. As much as this was Clay’s fault it was hers too. However, that didn’t mean she trusted him, more was going on, she had seen it all before.

 

The screeching sound of Juice’s alarm yanked (Y/N) awake. She climbed over Juice. His breath held steady, the alarm did nothing to stir him from his sleep. (Y/N) poked Juice in the ribs, abruptly waking him up. “Good morning to you too.” He groaned with a hint of annoyance. She placed a small kiss on his forehead.  
“I’m leaving a little earlier today. I need to talk to Tig before everyone gets there.”   
“I might as well leave with you.” Juice said through a stretch. (Y/N) knew he would leave with her, in an effort to stick to their routine.

In a rushed haze the pair managed to scull coffees, shower and get dressed all within the hour, stealing kisses as they went. (Y/N) kicked her bike into neutral. With the choke fully open and a small turn on the throttle the bike roared it into life. With the morning being cold she allowed it to warm up. Once the idling picked she turned the choke off and waited for Juice.

The sun held no heat as it crept up in the sky. (Y/N) pulled in to TM and parked her bike up. Seeing Tig fiddling around the garage she swallowed her pride and approached him. “Hey Tig,” Tig looked around pointing to his chest.  
“Who me?” He joked with a smile and soft chuckle. (Y/N) laughed along with him. His laugh was infectious. “Yes stupid. Tig, I’m sorry –“ He cut (Y/N) off waving his hand.  
“Forget it Doll.” He pulled her into a hug, breathing in her scent. “Are you okay?” His voice held genuine concern for her.   
“Of course Tiggy. And thank you... for telling Juice.” Tig telling Juice made it easier. It wasn’t her that disobeyed Clay it was Tig. Tig squeezed (Y/N) tightly, offering her a small portion of comfort before the air completely escaped her lungs. “What? Want a hug too?” Tig joked. He spotted Juice’s eyes hammering into him from a distance. “What’s his problem?” Tig whispered into the top of (Y/N)’s head. She hummed a laugh.  
“You know _exactly_ what his problem is.” Her voice muffled by his chest. She pulled away from the hug, staring at him. “You’re not stupid Tig, I know you know. But we would appreciate it if you keep it to yourself. You know what the club’s like with these things.” A grin spread wide on his face.  
“I just regret not making a move first.” A sheepish blush adorned (Y/N)’s cheeks as his lip met her forehead. She shook her head looking at her feet. “Come on, we got work to do. You too Juice. Work.”  Tig was trying to gain a reaction from his brother. Juice took long strides across towards the pair with his fists clenched by his side. “Easy.” (Y/N) placed a hand on his chest refocusing his attention on her. “He knows. He’s winding you up.” Her voice calmed him instantly. “He won’t tell. You need to ignore him. Or everyone will find out about us.” He muttered his apology, fearing he had upset her. “I’m yours baby. You don’t have to worry about anyone else. I’ll break their nose if they try anything.” His face mirrored the smile she beamed at him.


	7. Chapter 7

The music held its tempo, bass shaking the club’s wall as it rumbled through them. A party, of sorts, was taking place. The club needed to blow off steam. Croweaters pranced around, trying to grab the attention of whoever would look at them. (Y/N) couldn’t help but watch and be amused. One croweater caught her eye in particular; she was tall, beautiful and blonde. She watched as she sauntered her hips, swinging them harder than necessary as she made her way around in the club. Jax passed her off almost instantly, shrugging away from her grip, followed by Happy, Chibs and Opie giving her the same treatment. She was obviously having a bad night. (Y/N) smirked into her drink, _poor girl_ , was all she thought. Then the blonde came to rest at Juice’s side. She gently ran her hand up and down his bicep, giggling and whispering in his ear. Juice’s face turned a bright shade of red as her administrations continued. (Y/N) was not fazed by her, she watched on, smiling and laughing. “What’s so funny?” Tig asked coming to sit at the bar beside her.   
“See the blonde with Juice?” She pointed her bottle neck towards the girl. The lack of attention was making the blonde desperate; she flicked her hair and pushed her chest out further. “Oh her, what about her?” He joined her in watching the events unfold. Tig’s gaze moved over (Y/N)’s face. Her expression hadn’t changed. She was amused by it all. “That don’t bother you?” (Y/N) shook her head.   
“Not in the slightest. I’m enjoying watching Juicy squirm and her fail." Y/N sighed "It’s the little things in life Tiggy.” Tig let out a laugh and took a swig of his beer.   
“I guess I’ll take the bullet and go save Juicy boy.” He leant close to her, speaking softly, “Makes it less obvious.”

 

Tig rescued his brother from the petite blonde, taking her by the hand and leading her towards the dorms. (Y/N) plonked down on the couch next to him. “Didn’t enjoy that Juicy?” She quizzed, finishing her 9th beer of the evening. Juice looked over at her. The colour of his face had slowly returned to normal. “Did you see all of that?” He swallowed thickly. When the blonde had been pushed up against his side he made no effort to move, in all honesty Juice had no idea what to do.   
“mmm, I did.” She said confidently. She lowered her voice. “Made me a little jealous.” Juice tried to stutter a response at her and failed. “Jealous, that I can’t do that with you here.” she finished. She had read his mind. He couldn’t deny that he had been feeling the same way. His thoughts turned to her body, imagining his hands roaming over her soft skin. He manned up in an instance, “let’s go.” He said in almost a growl.

They barely made it through the door when their lips met. Juice won control over (Y/N)’s mouth, kissing her deeply. His tongue danced with hers. His hand tangled in her hair, pulling her closer towards him. He asserted his dominance causing her to moan, he wanted her to know exactly who she belonged to. Her hands traced his abs, fingers coming to rest just above his waist band.

A trail of clothes decorated the hall way leading towards the bedroom. (Y/N) pushed Juice’s naked body down onto the bed. Straddling him, she placed her body over the top of his. His hands came up to caress her silky smooth skin. She moaned at the feel of his rough hands brushing against her. She couldn’t control herself. Her hips rocked forward over his hard cock. A low growl was caught behind Juice’s teeth.

Finding her neck Juice nipped and kissed at (Y/N)'s flesh, careful not to leave any visible marks. Her soft moans where fuel to his passion. He bucked his hips up into her, repeatedly. The teasing was becoming too much for (Y/N). She needed him, NOW. In one swift movement she sank down on his cock. Juice let a moan slip, as did (Y/N). She was tight so around him. Her movements were slow as her hands roamed over him, memorising how every inch of his chest felt. Her hips rolled over him, smooth, controlled. Her mouth worked with his, exploring every part of each other with their tongues. It was sensual. Loving. Juice returned her passion. Moving with her, their pleasure peaking. Her breathing became heavy, almost non-existent. Juice knew her body. He knew she was close. He took over, grabbing her hips and picking up the pace. He pushed into her hard and deep. The room filled with the sounds of moans and slapping skin. Moving his hand downward, he matched his thumb with his hips, playing with her clit. It didn’t take long, she fell apart. Quivering on top of him as her orgasm rumbled through her body. She screamed as her walls clamped around Juice’s cock milking every inch, as he too came with a cry of his own. He held onto her, barely moving, when his own orgasm had taken over. They came to a stop panting heavily. (Y/N) collapsed on top of Juice, exhausted, unable to move.


	8. Chapter 8

  


White. There was nothing more for (Y/N) to look at, nothing to focus on. She stood surrounded completely by an empty white void. Her body hummed, tingled. Her emotions became dormant, peaceful. All her fear dissolved, along with her anger. She tipped her head up, breathing deeply, enjoying the serenity. Something she had never felt. “(Y/N)?” A familiar voice sang out to her. Her head snapped around to where the voice came from. Her eyes widened at the sight in front of her. Charlie and Molly, her parents. (Y/N) engulfed the pair in a hug. It wasn’t until she could touch them again, she realised just how much she missed them, how much she wanted to be with them. 

“Are you ready to go?” Charlie’s raspy voice sent shivers down her spine. He looked younger, and happier since she last saw him. His large palm came around her wrist, tightening like a vice. (Y/N) did not struggle, she followed compliantly. Her eyes brushed over her mother, her beauty had not faltered, her smile was still infectious, and bright. They walked together further into the void.

[[MORE]]

* * *

The club resembled a battleground. Clay stepped over the bodies and rubbish that lay forgotten around the floor. The night had been long for everyone but well deserved. He was on the search for Tig. Laroy had called that morning requesting a shipment of hand guns as soon as they could deliver. SAMCRO and the 9’ers’ relationship was still rocky at best, and Clay knew they could use a little extra cash. Clay’s eyes fell on the croweater, half naked and unconscious on top of Tig. “Tig, got a job. Get (Y/N). Meet me in the office.” 

With best intentions Tig attempted to wake the sleeping red head on top of him. “Hey?” He gently shook her shoulders, no response. After the third try he gave up, sending her body to the floor with a hard thump. She still didn’t move. The rising and falling of her chest, however, put Tig’s mind at ease. He clambered his way out of the clubhouse. When he swung open the door he was filled with instant regret. Pulling on his sunglasses he retreated to some shade. How Tig ended up with the redhead was beyond him. After escorting the blonde bimbo back to the dorms he could not recall much else from the evening. Tig pulled his phone out calling (Y/N).

The first call went to voicemail. Tig tried again; puffing on a cigarette he tapped his foot becoming impatient. “Better be good Trager.” She groaned into the receiver. Tig couldn’t help but laugh, the girl always had a way of brightening up his day.   
“Clay needs us to drop some guns. Not too far outside Charming. It won’t take long.”  
“Fine.” She sighed, “I’ll be there soon.”

* * *

It was almost noon when (Y/N) finally showed. Clay barked his orders at her, throwing a bed roll in her direction, telling them to hit the road. (Y/N) brushed off his attitude; she put it down to a hangover, which at his age couldn’t be easy. “No speeding Kitten.” Tig warned as they started their engines, (Y/N) threw him a smirk. 

The rushing breeze cooled the pair down. The California sun was relentless; a cloudless sky meant no escape.  (Y/N) tipped her head back, letting the wind rush through her hair. The freedom she felt on the road was indescribable. Tig sat alongside her. Every now and again he’d glance over at her. He was mesmerised by her expressions. He had never seen her look so content. The long open stretch of highway lay ahead of them. 

The drop went off without issue. Guns and money exchanged hands, with very few words said. “Coffee?” (Y/N) suggested before they headed back to Charming.  
“As long as you’re buying.” Tig joked, following her lead.

* * *

Joe’s was a small coffee shop sat just inside the board of Charming, a personal favourite of (Y/N)’s. She enjoyed sitting on her bike some mornings taking in the busy road and bustle of people coming and going. Today it was unexpectedly quiet. The heat meant most people had retreated to their homes and pools, in an attempt to avoid the heat. Tig sat outside with the bikes, smoking a cigarette. He chattered on the phone with Clay, informing him of their whereabouts and how the drop went. 

A blood curdling screaming ripped Tig from his conversation, causing him to drop his phone. His head snapped around, “Alex!!” (Y/N) screamed. He watched helpless as Mayans pulled her into a white panel van. Clay’s shouts could faintly be heard. Coffee stained the pavement. Tig was in shock, it happened so quickly. He had no time to react. His focus fell back to his phone. “Clay... Mayans... they took (Y/N)!” He stuttered. He knew he was greatly outnumbered, but he couldn’t lose track of her. “Get the guys. They’re heading East through Charming.” Hanging up the phone Tig took off following them.

Clay’s teeth ground together. He slammed open the door of the clubhouse, “Outside, be ready to ride!” His voice boomed, waking his brothers before he left again. Everyone made haste, clothes being thrown on haphazardly as they followed their president outside. “Wha’s going on Clay?” Chibs asked straightening his kutte on his shoulders.   
“Fucking Mayans took (Y/N). Tig’s following them.” Everyone’s jaws clenched simultaneously. Clay turned his attention to Piney, “Call Juice, get him to meet Tig at the east boarder.”  Piney fumbled with his phone, by the time Juice had answered everyone else had already rolled out.

* * *

(Y/N) eyed the four Mayans. These men she had never seen before. She stayed calm, collected, analysing her situation. Her hands were tightly bound behind her, as were her ankles. She struggled slightly against the restraints. “Since when does SAMCRO patch women?” The youngest Hispanic male spoke, breaking the silence. (Y/N)’s nostrils flared as she locked gaze with the man. Her stare was deathly, cold. “You’re boys caused us a lot of problems. Killed my cousin Hector.” He continued talking to her, “we think it’s only fair to even the score.” He smiled placing the barrel of his hand gun at her temple. “What’d you—“ the sound of bike engines rumbling broke his speech.   


“We’ve got company.” The driver piped up.

As the van headed through the eastern border of Charming Juice and the rest of MC had been waiting for them. Guns drawn, they were ready to reclaim their sister. The driver sped up in hopes of gaining some distance between them. Happy pulled up alongside the passenger window, firing his shotgun into the window. The driver swerved out of instinct. The loud snap rumbled through the van, rending (Y/N) deaf for a moment. As her brothers worked outside to get the van to stop, she began rubbing her wrist restraints against a piece of exposed metal on the van’s floor. The sound of bullets rang out down the highway as they shot at the van’s tires, in an effort to get it to stop.

As a bullet connected with the back tire the driver lost control. He slammed on the break, slipping and sliding over the road. Sparks poured from the back wheel. Unexpectedly the van flipped. Everyone slowed down, watching on in horror.

(Y/N)’s wrist popped free, just in time to cover her head as the van rolled. She was violently tossed around along with the other men in the van. Juice’s eyes widened as he watch the van hurtle down a bank, into the murky river below. (Y/N) was unconscious when the van hit the water; all that was visible from the road was the bottom of the van as it sank.

Juice dropped his bike at the side of the road, running down to the river. Happy and Jax followed him as the others looked on. Juice heaved at the backdoors with his brothers. As soon as they popped open he waded in, looking for (Y/N). He found her. Face down. His heart sank. He turned her over. Her hair clung to her face, she was pale, too pale. Juice and Happy dragged her up to the river bank. Unable to control his emotions he screamed. “Chibs! Save her!” His voice broke as with fear, and anger. Chibs bolted into action to resuscitate her. Jax held Juice as he fell apart sobbing in his arms.

* * *

(Y/N) stole glances at her parents, she smiled at them. A whimper stopped her in her tracks. A heartbreaking sound ripped through her blissful peace.  It sounded like “Juice?” She looked back at the sound. Looking again towards her parents she quickly realized where they were going. Her heart shattered when she stopped and they looked at her with questioning eyes. “I can’t go. I want to, but he needs me.” She pried Charlie’s grip from her wrist. “I’m sorry. I love you and I miss you. But.. I can't..not yet.” Charlie and Molly’s face twisted with pain. Their forms faded, their feet kept moving. She was alone. The white slowly faded to black.

Chibs’ held his rhythm, pumping on her chest. As he forced air into her lungs (Y/N) spluttered to life. Chibs turned her on her side, allowing the water to flow out. Opie took out his pocket knife cutting the tape from her ankles. Juice sprang from Jax’s arms, cradling (Y/N). “Baby?” He sniffled stroking her cheeks, “(Y/N)?” He kissed at her face, not caring who saw. (Y/N)’s eyes slowly opened, looking at him. A small smile spread across on her face. “Juice,” Her voice was raspy, it hurt her to talk. (Y/N) looked at him as his eyes lit up. She could see the love that shimmered in his eyes. She knew at this moment she didn’t need words. She raised her hand weakly to the back of his head, pulling him towards her. She pressed her lips to his. “How long...” Clay asked Tig. He shook his head watching as (Y/N) and Juice embraced each other. “Does it matter?” he asked sincerely. 


	9. Chapter 9

“I can’t do this anymore.” Juice mumbled. Days had gone by since the accident. The cuts and bruises were on their way to becoming fully healed. (Y/N) had bounced back from the ordeal better than Juice. To her it was just another day, but for Juice it was the worst day of his life. He had grown distant and scared of what he was feeling. (Y/N) stared at Juice from the other end of the couch. “What do you mean?” (Y/N) asked. His flat statement confused her.

“This is impossible.” Juice rubbed his palms across his head, “I can’t do it, being with you and both of us being in the club... it’s too difficult.” He shuffled to move closer to (Y/N), taking her hands in his. “I love you (Y/N). But now when I close my eyes I see you... pale and lifeless.” His voice cracked under emotions. Tears trailing down his face, “if we continue like this, we will end up dead. We can’t have both.” His words hung heavy in the air.

Being a son took everything from (Y/N), her family, her friends and now Juice. Everything to (Y/N) was a sacrifice; she always had to offer up chunks of her soul in order to prove herself. She felt winded, her heart was shattering and she could not stop it. (Y/N) did the one thing she could control. The one thing she was good at. She ran. Juice had little time to react, before he knew what was happening (Y/N) was gone. Her bike rumbled in the distance as it disappeared into the night.

 

 

(Y/N) ran from the situation but she didn’t run far. The pulsing music from the clubhouse speakers drowned out her worries. The vast amount of liquor calmed her nerves. “What are you doing (Y/N)? Where’s Juice?” Tig studied (Y/N) as she threw back another shot. Her eyes were hollow; the spark he loved was missing. She swayed on the bar stool, her hand reached for the bottle. Just as her fingertips grazed the neck, Tig grabbed her wrist, forcing her to follow him outside. “(Y/N), what are you doing?” He asked her again as her drunken frame slumped down onto the picnic table. “Talk to me.” His voice was gentle. She cracked.  
“Is the club truly worth it?” Her words slipped from her tongue in a drunken slur. Her gaze pierced into his soul, begging for the truth.  
“What do you mean?” Tig handed her a cigarette, hoping that it would both sober her and relax her.  
“Every single one of us has had the chance for love. The chance to have our own families, but we all know we can’t have both. It’s the club or love. Is it worth it, sacrificing love for brotherhood?” Tig exhaled smoke slowly.  
“Lately, I miss my girls more than anything.” He ran his finger through his hair as he spoke. “At the time, I thought it was worth it. SAMCRO was... is my life. Now, I’m not so sure.” She could see the torment in his eyes.  
“If you could change it, go back, would you do it differently?”  
“(Y/N), I’d grab my girls and head for the hills.” A lonely tear escaped Tig’s eye. (Y/N) placed her hand on his thigh, comforting him as he regained his composure. “Why’d you ask Doll?”  
(Y/N) sighed, “Tiggy, I have sacrificed everything for this club. Everything, willing, at the time I wanted to. It was worth it.” Her emotions overflowed, the years of heartbreak, sorrow and joy poured out all at once. “But now, I have found the one thing I am not willing to give up for it. I hate that I need him. I hate how easily he broke down my walls and became someone I depend on. He made me feel something other than anger. I have to choose. We have to choose, our relationship or the club.” Her voice quivered, “Tig, I walked out. I’m scared of his answer because I know his answer. I know where his loyalty lies and it’s with the club.” Tig didn’t respond, he watched her gentle features, he hated to admit it but she was even more beautiful when she cried.

 

 

 **Four weeks later**.

Juice gulped his way through another bottle of whiskey at the clubhouse bar, a new nightly routine for him. He would try to drown out the voices that told him how worthless he was, the ones that taunted him, chanting that (Y/N) never loved him. No matter how much he tried to reason with them, they left no room for him to breathe, even when he had passed out on the clubhouse floor, they continued their onslaught of hate in the background.  He was alone again, unsure whether (Y/N) would return to him. He had not heard from her. “Juicy, I’m taking ya home.” Chibs snatched the bottle from Juice, setting it on the bar. “Come on brother.”

The ride was quiet. Juice fixed his gaze on the passing buildings. He dreaded returning home. It was too quiet without her there. Chibs was forcing him to face his demons. Chibs pulled up alongside the sidewalk outside Juice’s home. He cut the engine following Juice out of the van. Weeds overtook the front of the house. Chibs sighed at the sight of disarray; Juice’s house now reflected his mind. Chibs grabbed Juice mail pushing it towards him. “I’ll get ya in the morn.” Juice waved him off before letting himself inside.

He slowly pushed the door open. The stale air met his nostrils. With a sigh, he slammed the door shut behind him. Chibs might have stunted his drinking at the clubhouse but nothing was going to stop him from continuing now. He retrieved the dusty bottle of liquor and sat at the kitchen table. He took several large gulps of the amber liquid before thumbing through his mail. He expected nothing but bills and junk mail. He sat up straight at the sight of multiple postcards and a handwritten letter.

Arizona, New Mexico, Texas, Louisiana. The wish you were here postcards were signed with two simple words, ‘ _with love’_. The dates on the postcards varied but only held a small clue as to where she could be. His heart sank into his stomach; _she has probably already moved on_ , he thought to himself. He turned his attention to the letter in front of him. It was from a week ago. He carefully tore at the tattered envelope.

 

* * *

 

 

_Juan,_

_I hope this letter gets to you and that you are well. I would have called, but I don’t think I can face the heartbreak of you ignoring my calls. I had to leave. Clay had asked me to do a job for the club across the country. I question my choice of leaving without saying goodbye, without fixing us first but I am a coward. I am petrified of losing you forever._

_I love you with everything I am, words cannot begin to explain my feelings for you. You make me feel things that I have never felt before. You made me realise that there is more to life than the club. There is more to life than killing. I know I am broken and you deserve so much more. You deserve better but I am selfish and I am not willing to let you go. When I am with you I am whole. You make me feel like I am worth something. You make me feel so loved._

_These last few weeks have been torture for me and I know in my heart that they have not been easy for you either. I cannot make you choose between me and the club, but you are right, we can’t have both. I know what I want Juan and it’s you. I would leave this life, leave my brothers and give up everything I have worked for to spend the rest of my life with you. You are my soul mate. You are the only thing in my life that has ever made sense. When I died I thought of you, I heard you. You were the reason I ran from the light. Juan, you are my reason for living._

_I don’t expect this letter to right my wrongs for me but I needed you to know that you have always been on my mind. I sent you the postcards so you would know where I am.  I will be back next Sunday, the 15 th, at the clubhouse. Let me explain everything face-to-face. It’s completely your choice. If you don’t come I understand._

_I love you. I miss you._

_(Y/N)._

* * *

 

Juice wiped the tears from his face, he couldn’t be mad at (Y/N). His heart would not allow it. No one told him she was on a job; he had thought she had left for good. No one had said anything. They watched his torment, they watched him hurt and never said a word. Juice lost his temper and hurtled the bottle of whiskey at the wall. His house became a battleground. Even if his brothers did not know, Clay did. Juice crumpled to his knees, he was loyal to Clay, to SAMCRO without question and this is how they repaid him.

 

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

**_> > Sons of Anarchy  
>>Multi-Chapter  
>>Juice Ortiz // Reader_**

‘I think it’s time to get some sleep.’ Tig said gently helping (Y/N) from her spot. His touch forced (Y/N) back to reality. _This is why women can’t be members_ , the voices crooned at her. In an instant, she fell into a false sense of sobriety. She could not be caught with her guard down. She could not be seen as a woman in a man’s game. She had worked far too hard to let her heart ruin it all. For now, her mind was made up, the club came before her emotions.

   Clay stared at the scene in front of him. He knew now was the time, for the sake of the club he had to keep order. Clay viewed (Y/N)’s emotions like a disease, if he allowed this to continue soon they would all be infected. ‘(Y/N), c’mere.’ His gruff voice startled her. His face set like stone, unforgiving and lacking in empathy. (Y/N) knew she couldn’t keep him waiting. She pushed the effects of her intoxication to the back of her mind. In her mind, she was walking with purpose, tall and strong. But in reality, she was stumbling her way over to him. ‘I need you to do a job.’  
               ‘Right now?’ she slurred at him.  
               ‘No tomorrow.’ Clay produced a crumpled manila envelope from inside his kutte. ‘Everything you need to know is in here. Read it. Lose it. We understood?’ (Y/N) wrinkled her nose at him in confusion. The alcohol in her blood made it impossible for her to decipher his tone. She reached out to take the envelope from him, but before her fingers could grasp at it, he snatched it back. ‘No one can know about this. The club depends on it. Read it. Memorise it. Burn it.’ (Y/N) swallowed thickly, and Clay shoved the envelope into her chest. She knew her place in the club was hanging by a thread. Clay walked back into the clubhouse, leaving her standing there without a second look. ‘What was that about?’ Tig questioned. _No one can know_. She plastered a fake smile on her face and turned her attention to him.  
               ‘Nothing. I’m going to get some sleep.’ (Y/N) disappeared into the clubhouse without another word.  
  
The sun was peaking over the horizon, breathing warmth with its rays. (Y/N) sat outside the clubhouse injecting caffeine and nicotine into her system. She enjoyed the moment of relaxation as she cited the contents of the envelope to memory. Clay had outlined four locations, and each location had a job. Flagstaff, Las Cruces, Houston, then lastly, Tampa. Four locations, four jobs, four weeks. Taking a final drag of her cigarette, she set the schedule and instructions ablaze destroying the evidence. The flames licked painfully at her fingers, caressing her with a numbing pain.   
               (Y/N) didn’t want to leave without telling Juice, without explaining why but she couldn’t. If she saw him, spoke to him, she knew she would not be able to go. She quietly made her way back into the clubhouse and into the dorm room she had spent the night in.   
               Clay’s instructions were simple, but (Y/N) knew each one held weight. Everything needed to go smoothly. _No one could know_. (Y/N) carefully folded her kutte and placed it into a plastic bag along with her cell phone and wallet. A precaution, without a cell phone Juice and the others, could not track her, without her kutte no one would be able to identify her on the road, and without her wallet, no one could ID her body if the worst happened.

* * *

The first three weeks passed quickly. With each stop (Y/N) sent Juice a postcard, a breadcrumb trail, just in case; and to remind him, she was still thinking about him. In Flagstaff, Las Cruces, and Houston, (Y/N) had to merely gather intel on the local MCs in the areas. Clay wanted information on the men in power, their numbers, and what they were dealing in. The dull nature of these jobs allowed (Y/N) to switch off. It was a job worthy of a prospect, not a previous Sergeant in Arms. Clay had made them appear to be more difficult than they actually were.

* * *

The heavy, humid Florida heat plagued (Y/N), making her sweaty and irritable. The whole time she had been in Florida she had hated it. The only thing that kept her going was the hope that Juice would meet her in the clubhouse when she got back. ‘It’s done.’ She mumbled into the receiver of the payphone.   
               ‘’Bout time.’ Clay’s gruff voice replied. (Y/N) carefully examined the area around her. She could not let her guard down. ‘Was it clean?’   
               ‘mhmm.’ The last job on Clay’s list involved (Y/N) silently taking care of a rat. He had fed the ATF information about the Clubs dealings before disappearing to Florida. It didn’t take much effort. A quick, silent bullet to the head while he slept in his bed. There was no way it could be traced back to the club or to (Y/N), but that didn’t make her any less paranoid. A short breathy laugh came from Clay on the other end of the phone.   
               ‘See you soon then.’ Clay hang up the phone before (Y/N) could reply. She needed to get home.

* * *

(Y/N) had made a good time from Tampa back to Charming, having only stopped once. She was a day early, but she couldn’t wait any longer. Pulling into their street, she slowed her bike to a roll before cutting the engine. Dawn had barely broken by the time she parked in the driveway. The house looked still and peaceful from the outside. A cheerful contrast from the turmoil and hurt that lay within. (Y/N) stared at it longer, enjoying the scene before her world imploded for good. She wiped her clammy hands on her jeans and sucked in a deep breathe. ‘Now or never.’ she whispered before turning her key in the lock.  
               (Y/N) cracked the door and listened for any signs of movement. Nothing. She moved inside quietly, closing the door behind her. She was buying herself more time. (Y/N) was shocked by the carnage staring back her. She couldn’t help but wonder if she was in the wrong house. Their once neatly clean home was in chaos. (Y/N) swallowed her own fear and got to work, cleaning up some of the damage she had caused.

Juice was awoken by a chorus of sounds of gentle footsteps, clinking bottles and rustling. Soundlessly Juice fumbled for the 9mm he had stashed in the bedside table. His fingers grazed the deathly cool metal. Sleep still heavily affecting his vision Juice slipped unnoticed into the living area. He fixed his aim on the figure and cleared his throat. (Y/N) jumped and turned to face him. Her eyes went wide at the sight of his gun. ‘Juice, it’s me.’ (Y/N) whispered dropping the trash bag and slowly raising her arms. ‘Juan, please.’ she said a little louder as tears escaped the corner of her eyes. Juice blinked, willing his eyes to focus on the features of the figure pleading with him.  
               ‘(Y/N)?’ Juice said as he slowly lowered his gun.


End file.
